Spin circles for me
by narsoo
Summary: Years after the barrier was broken, Frisk falls into a bad phase of narcotics and an uneasy relationship with a certain skeleton./M, NSFW. Adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

Sunday, wake up.  
The vibrant sun shone just over the little apartment block, barely hitting the small, square window embellishing the white-wash walls.  
Laying torpid, drenched in her own sweat, Frisk was just regaining conciousness from the previous night's events.

"Theres always something slightly comforting about passing out on a bed ridden with unidentifiable stains, huh kid?"

Suffering the plight of attempting to ignore the man adjacent, she wriggled turning her back to him. "Classic hangover, not that I can judge. But hey, kid, let's get on up. You know what day it is today, right?"  
Half asleep, confused, with her head twanging with sharp pains, she toiled to face him.  
"..What?" she mumbled, confused. She could barely comprehend her own thoughts, poisoned by her over-indulgence the previous night. Sans rose, brushing off the slight anger that rose in him. Breathing out a sharp sigh, his eyes glossed over the girl, "Y'know, this actually never used to be typical of you. Gosh, teens these days... It's Tori's birthday."

Her eyes widened, words tumbled out of her in a slight panic, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Her eyebrows furrowed.  
Her newly found conciousness gifted her with the scent of vomit and beer, not having seemed to subdue after the night.  
Her stomach was empty but churned uncomfortably. She emerged pitifully from the damp bed, "Fuck. Sans. I forgot."  
"I gathered as much. Rise and shine, kid. Get down those stairs and atleast wish her a good one." He promptly left, and Frisk slumped back down onto her bed miserably. The woman she had used as a safety blanket for years, too kind and unyielding to scold her for the numerous troubles she'd forced the woman to endure,  
and yet she couldn't even wake up entirely sober on her birthday.

Her heart pounded, the scent of pastry having made its way to her room causing her face to reflexively contort up. Butterscotch and cinnamon pie naturally got sickening after it being a custom in the house for years.  
Not that this was Frisk's house, no. Far from it.

Frisk declared herself independant from Toriel's loving home a few years ago, and soon found solace in residing with Sans and his brother Papyrus. Not that this stopped Frisk from making her small pitstops to Toriel's house when she was far too intoxicated to ignore the vomit and tears smothering her face. She slunked back into Toriel's comforting, maternal embrace, putting aside all pride she had. Toriel looked after her regardless.

Frisk was always somewhat reserved, and unspoken. A few meagre words here and there sufficed when it came to talking to others. Nobody could understand what troubled her. All anyone could suppose was that she had purged herself of dignity one year and developed into a mix of fear, loathing and experimentation. That was the best clue most that knew her could gather by themselves. Toriel had been burdened for years on what had went so disasterously during her upbringing of Frisk, each opportunity she had to ask Frisk, she was met with silence. Everytime.

Shamefully trudging toward the living room 'freshening up', Frisk inhaled deeply and solemnly.  
She was met by that familiar warm and pleasant smiling face of Toriel, "Good morning, Frisk! You're up late." She chuckled,  
"Feeling better?" Frisk paused, without memory of the previous night, she couldn't even begin to guess how Toriel had found her last night.  
"Toriel.. I'm really sorry. I need to stop putting you to so much trouble, fuck." Frisk scanned the room.  
No decorations.  
No guests.  
By the looks of it, even Sans had left at this point.  
Simply a butterscotch and cinnamon pie freshly prepared, sitting on a small table in the middle of the room.  
"Wait, where is everyone? I thought you were having a small party."

Toriel took a deep breath, in attempt not to look crestfallen, "Look, Frisk, I held it off. I thought it would be more appropriate whilst you were in this state," she spoke with a small, forgiving smile.

Toriel's words bore deep into Frisk. She gulped, "Toriel.. I'm so sorry."  
But her apology was the same as a million others before and this situation was the same as a million others before.  



	2. Chapter 2

_Last night's love affair is looking vulnerable, again._

Frisk felt his hot breath press against her cheek, with a guttural grunt pressed between peaceful little snores. She figured he always had an endearing element about him when he slept. She fixated her cold, glassy brown eyes on Sans, laying content. She couldn't help but curl her lips slightly at the warmth given off by him.

She lifted her skinny legs off the bed, plunging her head into her palms. Emerging from the fluffy blankets, the sharp, cold, morning air hit her half-naked body. Suddenly, she felt a pair of eyes gazing at her from behind. She shivered slightly, although remained relieved knowing it was only Sans.

 _"Got what you wanted last night, huh?"_ His tone was teasing, as she peered down realizing she had only been wearing a pair of lace panties. Not that she cared. He was her "boyfriend" after all. Uncanny as it was for the two to be together, equally their relationship was far from conventional. Loving, perhaps. Healthy, perhaps not.

Frisk was an experimental girl. Sans made sure she could explore to her heart's content, so long as this privilege would be his, too. Frisk hadn't known what to call it over the years. For awhile she supposed she was just another girl to Sans, simply held together by the fact he'd known her since she was young. ''An open-relationship''? ''Friends with benefits''? ''Relationship''? It remained nameless. Frisk would attempt to purge herself of all envy in her system when she would arrive home to Sans with someone else, whilst her mood was thawed tumbling passionately into someone else in an intoxicated frenzy.

In both of their lives, people came and went, backwards and forwards, but Frisk and Sans always remained seemingly together, as if in place.

Frisk parted her lips to allow a sigh to escape as she salvaged a shirt from their unkempt room. She took a seat on the mattress, placed in a slapdash manner on the floor. She fumbled for her belongings on the make-shift "bedside table" for her lighter and pack of cigarettes. Much to her dismay, the table was empty.

Sans was slumped lazily on the mattress, his eyes crawling up her back. She turned her head, and her eyes met his. The gaze was long, but meaningless. His long stare engulfed her, but the silence was broke when he let out a small, sadistic smile, "What? Is this where you expect me to say 'I love you' or something?"

Frisk felt daggers through her chest at the mention of the word 'love' when it came up with Sans, yet disguised this, rolling her eyes at the remark. He smirked, letting his hand glide across her pale-skinned, skinny thigh. Her pain was met with a quickening pulse, and within seconds she was powerless to his touch.

" _No."_ He spoke up, rising from his position on the bed, "Last night was enough for you, kiddo. Don't wanna tire you out too much." He remarked, with a teasing tone as his eyes scanned over her thin, bony body. "Look after yourself today, won't ya'? I'm going out, so if you don't mind terribly keepin' an eye out for Papyrus today.." Frisk responded with a small nod, after a short pause to recover from San's teasing remarks.

 _"You're a real peach, Frisk."_ He grinned playfully, briskly leaving as he so often did.


	3. Chapter 3

A thin blanket coiled around Frisk and Papyrus, as they sat on a small couch in the middle of an otherwise cramped living room. Like any other day, they both sat watching TV and occasionally chatting to each other, more so when Frisk wasn't hungover or otherwise. Frisk enjoyed keeping an eye on Papyrus when Sans left on what he'd call ''business'' or otherwise. She saw Papyrus as an endearing and innocent part of her life, which she would be otherwise lacking. He often left her smiling at the remarks he would come off with and they enjoyed each other's company massively.

Papyrus was oblivious to what went on between Sans and Frisk, yet was well aware of Frisk's habit, however couldn't address it. He had his subtle ways of being comforting though. On the odd occasion, when they were simply sitting together he'd hold her hand or put his arms around her when things were bad for her. She loved Papyrus with the same love any girl could have for a brother, or a best friend.

Frisk turned her head to Papyrus, "Did Sans say where he went? He left abruptly. And at this hour of the morning, it can't be work." Papyrus though for a bit, though with a puzzled expression replied, "He didn't say! Weird.. Don't worry, I'm sure he will be back soon!" He comforted, though he was unaware of their sexual relationship, Frisk and Sans had become a pair frequently seen together, and as such, it was not difficult for even Papyrus to see it was a relationship of dependence.

Frisk abruptly stood, lighting a cigarette as she so often did, strolling out of the room. She sat at a glass table with her head in her hand, the other one holding the cigarette. She felt the beginning of a piercing pain stinging the side of her head, and took a long drag, after this, exhaling and dragging a hand through her hair. She knew Sans wasn't loyal, and had no obligation to be based on their relationship, this did not stop thoughts of jealousy and the like festering.

She had broken herself multiple times over this subject. She had simply regarded her feelings towards Sans before nothing but infatuation, but each and every time she'd see him with someone else, giving them the same playful gaze. Spending the night with others. Not that she didn't do the same thing. He was no good for her, but she loved him.

Papyrus paused before getting concerned, he slowly approached the kitchen, where she sat silently. He sat facing her, and with innocent, caring eyes he spoke, "Frisk! Are you sick? Want me to get you something to help? You look paler than usual.." Frisk's ears perked at the sound of his voice and she raised her head to make eye contact with him, "I'm fine." She lied through her teeth, it was almost natural when speaking to Papyrus. To preserve his innocent, naive personality, she often opted to not speak with him about her issues.

 _"Is it because Sans isn't here to enjoy that Mettaton special on TV? It's okay! There will be re-runs, surely!"_

An empty laugh left Frisk's mouth, and slowly shook her head. When peering up at Papyrus' smiling face, she giggled again. But tears slowly escaped, she attempted to fight these off, however stood up, rubbed her eyes, and escaped. "I'm fine, Papyrus. Don't worry. I'll be back in a bit."

Before he could say anything, she was gone.

Sans eventually returned home, therein the late hours of the night.

He greeted his brother casually, "Sup?" He had almost walked past his brother, yet after taking a second glance, noticed he was a bit more withdrawn than usual, as he sat on the couch, idle. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I can't find Frisk! She left, HOURS AGO! She was upset. What- What did you do?! You know I hate it when she leaves this long." Agitated and anxious, he looked at his brother slightly more apologetically, before he could answer Papyrus. "She didn't tell you? Well, don't blame me. Didn't tell me, either. Weird, huh? You're acting like we're _not_ talking about a girl that takes off randomly." Sans didn't seemed worried, this was average behaviour for Frisk. Papyrus didn't seem so tranquillised by his words.

"She'll be back in the morning."


	4. Chapter 4

Sure enough, as dawn approached, Frisk made her way home with heavy steps. Her eyes were puffy and red, with dark purple circles tarnishing her otherwise peachy skin. She met eyes with Papyrus, anxiously watching from outside the window. She felt a twanging pain, she clutched her arms, giving a pained glance to Papyrus as she walked past the house. She wasn't fully ready to return home, she realized as she felt her heart race and pound against her ribs, and her empty stomach twisting wildly with nausea at the thought of returning. Her breath quickened, as did her pace. She didn't want to face the consequences of returning noticeably distressed and then as a result being questioned as to where she had been.

In the distance, she heard her name being called. Papyrus caught up to her, and looked her up and down with dejected eyes, "Frisk! Please, come home! I've prepared spaghetti for us both- And! And- If you're upset, Frisk, please. I care about you." Her heart dropped. Regret filled her, seeing Papyrus plead for her to come back with him. She gave him a tight-lipped forced smile, with mascara-smudged, heavy, eyes, "I'll come, I'm sorry."

Papyrus' face lit up with relief, as sighed softly. He abruptly hugged her, she weakly lifted her arms around him. They began to walk back to the small apartment, when Papyrus began his questions, "Where did you go?" Her shoulders slumped, "No where important, don't worry. Just needed to.. Think." He paused, "Think about what?" He naively asked, much to her dismay, she sighed. "It's nothing, I'm okay."  
Papyrus knew this wasn't the entire truth, but instead of investigating further, he gripped her hand, entering the apartment.

Frisk looked to Papyrus before retiring to her room after a sleepless night, "Sorry." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, letting go of his hand. She felt abhorrent that she had worried him, however, foolhardy as she was, she did not foresee he'd become this distressed.

She retired to her bedroom, the door already ajar. Her heart palpitated violently, as though her ribs could bruise and crack. She breathed solemnly, and opened the door. Almost ignoring Sans, she dropped herself onto the bed. Her deep brown eyes glaring at the white-wash ceiling without blinking.  
Then she felt his eyes on her, as if burning her skin.

 _"Rough night, huh kiddo?"_

Her stomach twisted, and cramped violently. She could feel vomit lurching up her thin neck, adorned with old, yellowed bruises. She didn't answer him. He walked up to her slowly, towering above her, his wide eyes boring into her. She rose, as if he had verbally commanded her. He gave a small sigh, sitting beside her. "Knew I shouldn'a left. You had Papyrus worried sick. Say, what had you kicking off so abruptly, kiddo? Paps said you seemed upset or somethin'.."  
She crossed her legs shyly, looking down, before muttering quietly, "Nothing.. Sans.. I'm sorry, I'm just.." She felt her throat almost closing over, she choked back the grief she accumulated from suppressing her honesty. She gulped, a mixed scent of vodka and vomit lingering in her mouth, she rested her head in her palms.

Sans put a hand on her shoulder, "There's somethin' wrong. There's alcoholism, which you think everyone's used to by now, and then there's this. What in the hell are you suffering from?"

"..W-What?" She was in shock, this was the first time he had spoken to her like this. She scratched the nape of her neck, as her eyes poured hot tears. Her breath hitched. "Sans, I'm sorry"  
"You sure say that a lot, Frisk. I'm not saying this in badness.. I care. Please, Frisk.." He spoke sadly, seeing her gripping the strands of her hair in an attempt to comfort herself.

She fell silent, her breath was quiet and steady, she was still. She abruptly rose, shaking, "I'm getting the fuck out of here." She rushed to the pile where her clothes were flung.  
Sans sat with an indignant expression which soon turned to a tight-lipped half-grin. Whilst she was madly rummaging through her belongings he stopped her, he pushed her to the wall.

 _"Frisk. You're not leaving. Not when you're like this, and not when I'm the only one looking out for you."_

Then, she broke. She collapsed in his arms, he smirked. He'd got what he wanted. "Besides, what would I be to you if I let a pretty lil' kid like you out all alone again?"  
Her pupils dilated, her chest rose and collapsed rapidly, mirroring her breathing. Her face was flushed with a bright red, his eyes burning deep into her. Weakly, she nodded. His arms still around her, and her back to the wall. "That's more like it." His voice was low, he let his cold hand caress her warm cheek.  
They kissed. In a frenzy, she let her hands run all over him. She wrapped her arms around his head, pushing him into her. His hand slipped up her skirt, she shuddered. He slipped himself into her, in a quick, but painless manner.  
She moaned, resting her head on his shoulder as she did so. Exasperated, she suddenly stopped, and pushed him away a little.

"No, no, _no._ This is.. This _is_ my problem Sans." She felt her head twist with regret after the words left her mouth as she panted, he looked confused.  
" **I love you.** But I can't have you," suddenly, her words were tumbling out in a cesspool of passion, "Sans, I've never.. met.. Anyone like you, this.. I can't do _this._ Love isn't supposed to do this, when I'm with you.. I.." She froze.  
His eyes were ice cold.  
Suddenly, he pulled her closer, kissing her again, comforting her by stroking her hair, "Do you even know what _you do to me_ , kid? You're makin' _me_ crazy now.. And that's exactly what love is supposed to do."


	5. Chapter 5

Slumped on the bed, Sans didn't notice the sun creeping in through the crack in between the curtains. Silent and unconscious,  
he lay in the midst of the warm, messily layered blankets. Perhaps it was due to the events of last night that he was plastered  
to the bed exhausted, still, after hours of sleep.  
Eventually, when he awoke from his slumber, not much to his surprise, Frisk wasn't beside him, where she had fallen asleep the previous night.  
She usually woke up early.

He made his way into the living room, and was greeted by his brother. Papyrus had been cooking, judging by the scent of burnt food which  
made it's way to Sans. He masked his disgust, and grinned at his brother, "What'cha makin'?" Before he even fully finished his sentence,  
Papyrus replied excitedly, "Why, it's pancakes! I decided to make you and Frisk something nice for waking up! Just wait until Frisk wakes  
up and sees this! Oh, she will be so pleased! All thanks to me!" Sans nodded happily, almost not taking into account that Papyrus just  
mentioned Frisk still sleeping.

"Wait.. You ain't seen Frisk?" He replied, confused. "Huh? Of course not, she has been in bed with you silly!" Panic hit Sans, he hid this from  
his brother as to not worry him. He remembered the state Papyrus had been in the previous day knowing Frisk had left for so long. _  
"No wonder the kid wanted to make pancakes.."_ Sans thought to himself. "...Just testin' ya', Paps. Kid's exhausted, you better let her sleep,  
I'm sure she'll be awake in no time."  
Papyrus joyfully went back into the kitchen to finish his concoction, and once he did so, Sans sighed heavily. He rested his face  
into his palm, vexed by the fact Frisk had left, again. Yet he thought to himself,

 _"She'll be back."_

But she wasn't.

A day passed, the next morning Frisk still hadn't returned.  
Sans' anxiety grew larger at each passing hour, he searched through her belongings, in a desperate frenzy to gather  
any clue at all to where she was, what she had taken with her, and what he could gather before he let anyone else know  
she had disappeared. He could only imagine how Papyrus would react. He'd been living off the lie that Frisk had  
decided to spend a few nights with Toriel.

As a last resort, he left the house himself. Frantically searching for Frisk everywhere he could think of. He already  
knew that she could not be with Toriel, as Toriel usually let Sans know when Frisk detoured to her house.  
Rain poured down like bullets, heavy and unforgiving. The pale sky turned from a mild afternoon to a dark and foreboding  
twilight sky, masked by grey clouds.

Sans' body was exhausted by the time he reached the outskirts of the town they resided in. His heart pumped with adrenaline,  
and sweat mixed with rain pouring down his face, he rested with one hand on a tree, there was a small field of grass, belonging  
to a park where he had decided to stop to catch his breath.  
Everywhere.  
He had searched everywhere, and not a single trace of Frisk was found anywhere.

The land was high here, and the air was thick amongst the pellets of rain which relentlessly dropped down. Again, the area  
was littered with trees and a few bushes, with a small pond smack-bang in the middle of the park. A few ducks  
were swimming along the water, however this was the only sign of life besides Sans.

Beside the pond, almost concealed by a large oak tree, was a small wooden bench.

Upon seeing the sight of this, Sans' thumping heart came to a stop.

 _There she was._


	6. Chapter 6

He raced over to her, hoping that the silhouette that resembled her was not simply some lady out on a night-time stroll.  
Once he managed to reach a short distance between him and the bench, he could confirm it was definitely her.  
He grinned.  
"Frisk! Frisk.. ... _Frisk?.."_ He managed to pant out, in between fast breaths. His heart was violently thumping, he shook,  
eyes sadly glancing over a quart-bottle of vodka laying beside her.

But.. It was.. Full..?  
She paused, but glanced up to Sans with wide eyes, pained with melancholy, she looked down, scratching the nape of her neck.  
"Aha.. I was hoping you wouldn't find me." She had a small smile on her lips.  
Sans sat down beside her, placing his hand on hers, "Frisk, jesus.. Kid, you had me so worried. Please, please, if you're upset, if you've  
done anything, please we can just-"  
"No, Sans. I'm okay, please." Her eyes met the exhausted but relieved ones of Sans.  
"Then.. Why did you leave?"

There was a long, aching pause between the two. She moved her hand from his, and placed it in her lap. "I didn't want to have to tell you.."  
"Tell me what?! Frisk, please..!" Sans' voiced was riddled with pain as he got closer to her.

"I'm leaving, Sans.." Her eyes pierced the ground where her head was aimed. Sans' eyes met the small bag she had with her,  
he slowly recognised the contents as a few of her clothes and such. Sans couldn't comprehend the words that left her mouth,  
his eyes, for the first time in awhile, began to tear up. She had said this the previous night, yet this time, her voice was so genuine, her  
sobriety so genuine..

"No... _No..Frisk, you can't_. No. Where will you go?" He fought off tears, clutching her hand again, feeling her body shudder and then begin  
to shake lightly, he repeated his words again, "Frisk. We can work this out, I'm sorry."

"No.. _I'm the one who should be sorry._ " Sans' gave a questioning look. Frisk rose her head, looking him sternly in the eye, her fingers letting  
go of his and clutching onto her bag, as she felt her body begin to tremble, "I shouldn't have moved in with you..." Each time she spoke,  
he felt a dagger inch its way through him, his eyes wide, "I shouldn't have let you have me.. I shouldn't have even pursued a relationship  
with you at all, aching over how _fucking_ genuine it was..."  
Her body shook violently, her voice beginning to break, choking back her tears. Her tears fell hot, and heavy onto her bag, as she  
paused to allow herself some time to gain her composure,  
"But still... I..."

By this point, Sans' tears were more obvious, but he sighed.  
They stayed together, under the dim light of the moon, breaking through the dark clouds.

That's when he left, as did Frisk.

Never to meet paths again.


	7. (Thank you from the Author)

i just wana say thank u guys so much 4 reading this and giving lovely reviews and favouring i was so shocked by how many ppl  
actually liked my work, im not too confident with this sorta thing.

you guys r the best thank u so much!

mwah,

a.


	8. A small update!

so um oh my gosh i was reading some of ur guys reviews and u guys r so sweet

youve convinced me to continue it on a bit, because this is also some of the background i felt was lacking.

thank u for ur continued support.

prequel/sequel thingy:

s/11647261/1/Crash


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